Bastion
by A-Writer-Bro
Summary: Imagine if Peter Pettigrew had never been born, and instead Kale Bastion was. Kale shows incredible potential, and in a world on the brink of war his power is highly coveted. Which side will he choose, if any at all? OC/? SB/? RL/? JP/LE Well written .
1. Prologue

**Author Note: This is a new story I'm trying. If I get some positive feedback during the first few chapters, I'll give it a solid run. Let me know what you think. This is set in the Marauder's era, as it is a personal favorite of mine. **

Prologue: June 19th, 1970

Albus Dumbledore was no fool. Then why was it that he felt he was repeating a dire mistake?

"Fool me once…" he mumbled into his beard.

He pressed his forehead against the smooth grain of his desk, his old hands beneath the desk toying with a small vial. The vial, it seemed, was the source of his frustration; or rather it's contents. For it contained a silvery swirling matter: memories. These particular memories were Albus's own.

He rose from the desk in his office and approached an ornate cabinet with open doors. Inside was a large stone basin. For what seemed like the hundredth time that night Albus poured the contents of the vial into the basin. His hands clutched the stone rim and he leaned into the pensieve.

Instantly Albus was transported into a bar in west London. The same he had visited not more than twenty-four hours ago. The headmaster found himself sitting in the far corner of the dingy bar. The establishment was not one he would frequent, to put it lightly. It's characters and cleanliness were equally questionable. It was a large tavern with three rows of long skinny table that ran the length of the room. The tables and floors were stained with beer, and it's patrons were as questionable as the neighborhood within which the bar stood. Painted women wandered around the room carousing drunken men upstairs. Albus had seen a brothel before, that was not why he was shocked. No, he was shocked by the small shadow of a child crawling quietly beneath the tables, occasionally running his finger across the seam of someone's back pocket, freeing its contents. A sort of wandless, controlled reducto spell. The boy seemed to be working in collusion with the young prostitutes. The women would talk and search for the drunkest patron, then signal the boy usually by ordering the man a specific drink, or by certain code phrases. Then the boy would creep beneath the table while the man was distracted and release his wallet.

Albus sighed and rubbed his eyes. He felt so tired. This boy- Kale Bastion, had shown incredible magical potential, the kind of magical potential born every odd generation. One of his unusual sources, Rudolph Fletcher, had claimed he'd seen the boy perform controlled magic. That in itself seemed strange. Most underage wizards tended to release bouts of accidental magic. It is how young witches and wizards are found every year, and then eventually attend Hogwarts. Only in rare cases do children realize early on how to harness those powers. Powers that seemed all too familiar to Tom Riddle's. In fact, the situation itself seemed to remind Albus to well of Tom; a young boy with incredible magical capacity born into an undesirable environment. Albus's frustration came from the choice he had to make: was this boy another Lord Voldemort in the making? And if he didn't invite him to Hogwarts, what would become of him?

"He seems so harmless," Albus thought aloud. He was a small child, about ten years old, essentially a tuft of brown dusty hair with dark smudges on his olive cheeks. He had dark eyes, set beneath serious eyebrows.

"No, no- its better this way. At least you will have him under your scrutiny at Hogwarts," Minerva had told him earlier. He was inclined to agree with the young professor. Besides, why punish the boy for something he might do?

Albus walked across the memory of the bar and crouched low beneath the table bench. The boy had fallen asleep seemingly in the middle of stealing someone's wallet.

"How strange," Albus mused to himself. His resources told him the boy had a habit of falling asleep under duress or anxiety. He looked at the small sleeping figure and his heart nearly melted at the sight. He made up his mind then and there, "How would you like to come to Hogwarts, Kale?"

**Author's Note: What did you think? Love it? Hate it? Are you confused? Are you intrigued? I've been wanting to do a powerful OC character for a while without letting it get out of hand. Please REVIEW. **


	2. The Sorting

**Author Note: After some wiki research I found that the marauder era started in 1971. I'm going to try stay as close to what I imagine is cannon for these characters. Please R&R.**

September 1st 1971

Kale Bastion sat bemused in a plush chair in the powder room of the Scarlet Lady Inn. Around him was a flurry of skirts and cleavage as the women of the Inn attacked his clothing and hair with maternal ferocity. The Scarlet Lady was an appropriate name for the inn, the dingy bar and inn was only a façade for the brothel upstairs. The prostitutes varied in age from nineteen to early thirties, and all had felt obligated to take in Kale; especially upon discovering his knack for lifting wallets.

They had been his make shift family his whole life. Kale's mother had been a young prostitute who had died giving birth to Kale. The women of the Scarlet Lady had taken him in as his father, no doubt some drunk patron, had been conspicuously absent. He had never really known a family other than the women of the brothel. They had become the cumulative mother figure in his life, or more accurately _fourteen _mother figures.

It seemed his life had transformed 180 degrees in the past two months. When he had turned eleven an elderly women, who claimed to be both a witch and professor, had arrived at the inn and told Kale in confidence that he was a wizard. Now Kale was not stupid, in fact he fancied himself to be rather bright, and he knew that he was… different. His abilities to make fires appear, make people forget, and to tear seems of clothing were not things that people should be able to do. However, Kale had found his powers allowed him to exceed on the streets when most young boys would have starved. But a wizard? That seemed a little bizarre.

Originally, Kale's natural skepticism overruled his insatiable curiosity and he reluctantly denied her request to attend the school, but in turn sshe had performed a piece of extraordinary magic, transforming herself into a small cat, and that alone had sold Kale. He was going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardly, regardless of how ridiculous the name was. The woman, Professor McGonagall, had told his mothers that Kale had been accepted to a prestigious academy for brilliant young adults. Kale's mothers weren't the smartest women and didn't ask many question. For example ,they were under the impression that Kale was simply a natural sleight of hand artist, not that he was using magic to tear peoples' slacks. Therefore, it was with ease that Professor McGonagall managed to convince them that Kale had been offered a scholarship to a prestigious boarding school for brilliant young adults.

Kale was pulled out of his musing by Jasmine, one of the younger girls that worked the Scarlet Lady, "And don't arse about when you get there, you understand me Kale? The train leaves at eleven sharp. You understand Kale?"

"Right, right, I get it," he huffed and purposely ruffled his combed hair, earning him a cuffing from one of the girls.

"And do try not to fall asleep, I know you can't help it, but do try," add Leila, an older whore, anxiously. Kale fixed Leila with his best eleven year old glare. He couldn't help it if he fell asleep when he was anxious. After further research, or as much research as an eleven year old street urchin could do, he found his disorder was called narcolepsy. However, Kale's narcolepsy was a rare case as it is only triggered by stress or nervousness. If he controlled his emotions he could usually control his… problem.

The women of the Scarlet Lady shuffled him out into the crowded, dusty London street and ushered him into a cab, some of them crying, others worried or proud. He could name each of their secrets, dreams, and desires. He didn't realize how dearly he would miss them all until he was whisked away by the scrappy yellow cab on the unusually bright London afternoon. He turned away from the window and sat down facing forward as the cab turned around the corner. He knew how much a cab must have cost them, and how much money they did not have. He was extremely grateful.

During the cab ride, Kale lay down along the seat and pulled out his new wand. He shielded it from the view of the cab driver as he recalled the pleasant trip he and Professor McGonagall had taken to the erratic wand maker's shop.

"You see, this is what the world is like for _us,_" said Professor McGonagall as she whirled her arms about indicating everything within Diagon Alley. Kale looked around and took note, not for the first time, of the wildly differing array of character wearing brightly tailored robes, some toting exotic animals, and all walking busily with a destination in mind.

"If wizards are us, then regular people are just everybody else?" asked Kale, his mind swirling with new questions.

The professor took her time answering the question, "Well yes and no. We are witches and wizards, non-magic folk are referred to by us as muggles. Are worlds are separate, yet impossibly connected. We do our best to remain invisible to them, as it is better to remain unnoticed."

Kale nodded, he was completely enthralled in the conversation. He had a quick, curious mind made for absorbing information.

Professor McGonagall watched the boy intently as he processed her words. He had these peculiar, distant eyes. Almost as if he was thinking too fast to allow his other senses priority. That seemed to be the case as Minerva swiftly pulled him out of the way from a headlong collision with a stranger's owl cage. Kale was startled out of his thoughts.

"Are there bad wizards?" he asked. He assumed there must be, if magical people had so much in common with muggles, omitting the obvious difference.

McGonagall cleared her throat, "Yes of course, we are people too, just like muggles, we have flaws," she paused a bit and her face darkened, "of course, some are worse than others." She did not seem to want to talk about it any longer so Kale changed the topic, "what's next on the list?"

She glanced down at her list and smiled slightly, one of the first smiles he had seen on her young face, "We go to Ollivander's wand shop, then on to school books, then-" she stiffened awkwardly and looked down at Kale, "you do know how to read don't you?"

Kale fixed her with a flat stare, though he supposed it wasn't a terrible question considering how he was raised. "Yes. I can read." Bethanie, one of the youngest and most intelligent of Kale's mothers had taught him how to read.

The teacher coughed uncomfortably and led Kale into a dusty building with a worn sign reading _Ollivander's_.

In retrospect the wand shop had been Kale's favorite part. He examined the small piece wood that was his wand.

"12 and ½ inches long, Acacia with a tail hair from a Chimera. Very flexible," Ollivander's words rang in his head. The old man was creepy, but he seemed to really know his stuff.

"King Cross Station, lad," barked the cab driver. Kale exited the car and dragged his trunk to a nearby trolley. This was the part he'd been dreading. He scanned the enormous train station with its multiple platforms, searching inevitably for the platform that couldn't possibly be there."

"Platform 9 and ¾ what rubbish," Kale mumbled underneath his breath. He checked a clock above a platform that read was running out. He decided the next logical course of action was to look for folk similar to the ones he'd seen in Diagon Alley. Sure enough between platform 9 and 10 were an odd-looking group. They had matching robes of a deep blue, and cages filled with cats and owls.

"Perfect," whispered Kale to himself as he slinked behind them and watched their behavior. His eyes widened as he saw them rush into a large brick pillar and move seamlessly through with their trolleys.

"Far out," he said aloud. He then braced his body and rushed full speed towards the barrier.

Upon opening his eyes, the young boy's jaw dropped as he saw an enormous gleaming locomotive that dwarfed everything around it. It leaked silvery smoke from its top like a massive metal dragon. Families surrounded the train, crying mothers hugging children, young and old, and fathers offering last minute advice. Kale felt of pang of jealousy watching the heartfelt farewells and remembering that his time was limited, Kale ran onto the train and dragged his trunk into one the furthest back compartments.

He slid the compartment door open and found it unoccupied; he eagerly made his way inside and claimed it as his own. The compartment was warm and cozy and Kale found it comforting. It reminded him of his tiny room back at the Inn.

A loud bang from outside his compartment drew Kale's attention.

"What do you think you're doing? You think you can just waltz in here and-" the rest of the words were obscured by the sound a body hitting the door of Kale's compartment. The person met the door with a loud thump.

"Serves you right!" the voice then disappeared down the hallway, and the victim of the trashing opened the door and limped in. He was a young boy, probably the same age as Kale, though a little taller. His hair was a rich black and it was sticking up in odd angles all over his head. He had round glasses that were currently askew on his face.

He sat down with huff. Kale was about to offer to mend his leg as he was rather use to healing himself whenever he would earn a beating from the rough neighborhood children. But Kale's offer was cut short by the young man in front of him, "Can you believe the nerve of her? I'm James Potter!" He paused slightly and frowned a bit at the floor, "James Potter!" he shouted again. Kale reeled back slightly. He was unsure if he was supposed to recognize the name, he supposed he was.

The boy frowned at him again, "What's your name again?"

Kale reached out his hand, "Kale Bastion, I'm new to-"

"Bastion?" the boy cut across his words rudely, "What kind of a name is that?"

"A last name," Kale deadpanned. The surname belonged to no one, neither his biological mother nor anonymous father; it was a bastard's name, chosen by Kale for its etymology, meaning fortress.

James Potter huffed at Kale's dry humor, but shook his hand anyway. Kale decidedly did not like this boy's attitude, and therefore decided not to heal his leg. The two said nothing else and sat in uncomfortable silence the remainder of the trip. Once the train stopped, the two left the compartment and separated. Kale's attention was stolen by an enormous man in a huge raggedy trench coat.

"Firs' years! Firs years! Come on, the lotta ya!" He was a mountain of a man with a fuzzy black beard shrouding his face. Kale barely came up to his knees. He decided to obey this gigantic man's orders and shuffled into a large wooden boat with the other first years. They crossed an enormous black lake crammed against each other. Kale decided to find out the big man's name.

"'Agrid, yors?" the big man responded.

"Kale," he answered. "So what happens now? I'm new to this whole thing," Hagrid chuckled a sympathetic chuckle.

"Now lad we go ta the castle and you're tested to see what house you'll get puttin. There are four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin, slimy lot they are."

The castle was just that, a castle of gigantic proportions. It was magnificent in its grandeur. It had large keeps and sweeping gothic buttresses that were painted a matching black by the darkness of coming night. It seemed to Kale that everything in the magical world was bigger than him. This test had him worried. What if he failed? He was not prepared for this. Kale, who usually tried to keep his emotions neutral, because of his narcolepsy, felt a familiar anxiety creeping over him. He couldn't help it! He was just nervous for the test.

They landed quietly on the shore and Hagrid led the group towards the large wooden doors, which he opened with ease. The inside was a magnificent hall, flooded with students and the clearly older faculty at the head of the hall. Candles were floating and the ceiling matched the ominous sky outside.

A tall old man stood from his place at the head table and addressed himself as headmaster Dumbledore, "Welcome, old and new students, to a wonderful and hopefully prosperous new year. Before we learn, even before we eat, there is the matter of the eager new students we have here today. Without further ado, let the sorting begin!"

While the old man had been talking, an old stool with an even older hat had appeared in the center of the great hall between all four tables.

"Avery, Marcus!" The hat shouted. Several of the first years jumped backwards when the hat shouted. Kale included. The young boy in question, Avery, strutted confidently to the stool and cooly placed the hat on his own head. It covered his head down to his nose. Kale was envious of the boy's confidence. Kale's own hands were sweating and if he guessed right, they were calling students alphabetically. For the first time Kale cursed himself for picking a last name so near the beginning of the alphabet.

"Slytherin!" the hat shouted, and the table to Kale's right stood, clapped, and shouted. The young boy ran gleefully to meet the table.

"Bastion, Kale!" Kale made his way slowly towards the hat, his mind racing with possibilities. He sat on the stool and shakily placed the hat on his head.

"Interesting this one. You have a good brain, brilliant in fact. You would do well in Ravenclaw, but no, no, you don't seem like the studious type. Cunning for sure, but far too unambitious for Slytherin. Hufflepuff is laughable, you are far to hardened for the black and yellow. You're daring, but that does not always mean courageous. Hmm, where to place you…"

Kale Bastion saw darkness.

**Please remember to REVIEW. I'd love to know your opinions on my story. PLEASE.**


	3. The Fight

**Author Note: I realize this story is advancing rather slowly. I apologize for that, and I realize that the marauder's good stuff didn't really pick up until 5****th**** year. However, I do believe that characterization early on makes for a good story. So if you could all bare with me, I think you might enjoy this story. Just please remember to REVIEW. Authors thrive on comments. **

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was mortified for the young man in front of him. If he didn't know any better, it appeared that the Kale Bastion had indeed fallen asleep while being sorted. On a more enlightening note, it appeared that one need be awake to have his mind examined by the hat. That is how Dumbledore found himself in the great hall with anxious first years, confused students, and a frustrated hat.

Minutes had passed and still the sorting hat had yet to dignify the boy with a house. It appeared the hat was sulking. Even Dumbledore, in his vast wisdom, had _never_ seen a hat sulk.

"Er- Gryffindor?" the sorting hat half shouted, half asked. The Gryffindor table was a mixture of reluctant claps and bemused looks. The sorting hat's final words seemed to have woken Kale up as he started in his seat and raised his head rather quickly. Dumbledore felt incredibly embarrassed for the child. Falling asleep while being sorted was not something that happened often, and would probably be the source of endless torment for the unfortunate first year.

On a lighter note, Albus was secretly thrilled the boy was a Gryffindor. He had, admittedly, been worried that the boy might follow more directly in Tom Riddle's footsteps. Not that there was anything wrong with being a Slytherin, he chastised his inner headmaster.

Kale was mortified. He removed the agitated hat from his head and placed it on the stool, then proceeded to slink over to the unenthusiastically clapping Gryffindor table. He was offered a seat near the middle by a tall, willowy looking girl. He flashed her a grateful look and took the seat.

"Black, Sirius!" shouted Professor McGonagall. A short boy, with long black hair and pale features sauntered towards the stool. Sauntering, Kale decided, was the only way to describe his walk. He sat on the stool and placed the hat on his head. A good bit of time lapsed. Apparently something was amiss, because all four tables began whispering intensely.

"Gryffindor!" the sorting hat shouted. His declaration was met by silence. There was no clapping at the Gryffindor table. The boy looked stricken, as if he would like nothing more than to crawl deep inside of the sorting hat, and never be seen again. He slinked over to the Gryffindor table, a much different walk leaving the sorting hat than his saunter. When the boy walked towards the table, everyone seemed to move away, until inevitably the only seat left was right next to Kale. Kale had no problem with that; he was grateful for this boy stealing the attention from his sleepy sorting.

"Hi, I'm Kale," his introduction was met by a thick silence. The color had fled the boy's face, his features were a mix of fear and relief. Finally, he opened his mouth and said tightly through clenched teeth, "My parents are going to kill me."

That seemed like an odd response to Kale, but he decided to watch the rest of his classmates get sorted rather than solve this boy's riddles. The next girl was a tiny thing, she had dark red hair and too many freckles splattered around her eyes and nose. Lily Evans was sorted into Gryffindor. A few more names were called, mostly Hufflepuffs, until the boy Kale had sat with on the train was called.

"Potter, James!" Almost as soon as the hat made contact with the crown of the boy's head, the hat trilled, "Gryffindor!" This declaration earned a vigorous clapping from his table. To his right, the tiny redhead girl let out an annoyed huff. The boy strutted over to the Gryffindor table and squeezed between Kale and another boy. He turned and looked at Kale, surprised as if he hadn't expected him to be at Hogwarts anymore.

"Oh it's you. What was your name again, mate? Krail? Keel?" he asked all too innocently. Kale remained unperturbed.

"You know you have a rather long nose," stated Kale, in a matter-of-fact tone. He earned a chortle from Sirius for his quip. James Potter flushed and covered his nose with his hand.

"Oh so sleepy has jokes?"

"Lupin, Remus," called McGonagall. A short boy, with sandy blonde hair and a rather melancholy disposition approached the stool. The hat named him a Gryffindor and he joined the table. Kale intentionally offered him a seat between he and James.

"Kale, pleased to meet you," Kale reached out his hand in a friendly gesture.

The boy brightened up and took his hand, "Remus, same to you." Finally somebody normal, thought Kale in the back of his mind. The irony of that thought wouldn't strike him for another year. The remainder of the sorting was uneventful, and finally nothing was left to do but to eat.

The meal was like nothing Kale had ever seen. The table was decorated with a mouth watering array of food: roast chicken, Cornish pasties, pork chops, kidney pudding, pumpkin juice, and so much more. After the meal and the introduction of Nearly Headless Nick, whom Kale bombarded with a torrent of questions regarding the afterlife, the same tall older girl who had offered Kale a seat showed the first years to the Gryffindor common room. Kale was incredibly intrigued by the castle. It seemed to be _alive_. That was the only appropriate description, he decided. The portraits were teeming with life, and the staircases would alarmingly shift at random. He could see how one would get lost in the caste.

Finally they stopped at a portrait of a fat lady sitting regally. "Password?" she asked imperiously.

"Doddering bobbits," responded the head girl, Seera. The portrait creaked open and revealed a wonderfully comfortable looking room. Students were lounging around the common room on plush love seats and couches rekindling relationship. Their cats were stretching languidly by the fire, which was casting a warm, lazy glow on the room.

"Groovy," Kale heard James say behind him. He had to agree.

Seera showed the first years to the steps leading up towards there dormitory.

"If you have any questions, I'll be over there," Seera pointed to a table by the fire place where her friends were eagerly waving her over. The boys dragged their luggage awkwardly up the steps and entered the dormitory. The room was a comfortable looking one. There were only four beds: one for each of the first year boys in Gryffindor. From what Kale garnered at the welcoming feast, four was the lowest sorting class for male Gryffindors in the last five decades.

Remus Lupin, James Potter, Sirius Black, and Kale Bastion looked around awkwardly at each other. They had not necessarily hit it off. Because one did not usually trust others on the streets, Kale was new to making friends and doubtful about how to proceed. Sirius looked a combination of terrified and relieved, James looked as if he had swallowed a lemon, and Remus just sat patiently on his four-poster bed.

James was the first to break the silence, "What's got your knickers in a bunch?" he asked Sirius, who looked incredibly worried. Sirius glared daggers at the messy haired boy.

"My parents are going to kill me for not getting sorted into Slytherin!" he snapped back. James looked revolted by Sirius's words.

"Who would want to get sorted into rotten old Slytherin? The house practically _breeds _dark wizards!"

"I never said I wanted to be in Slytherin, just that I was supposed to!" Sirius spat the words. Remus and Kale watched the scene with averted eyes. The discomfort was palpable.

"Slimy git!" shouted James, emphasizing his words by pushing Sirius.

"Stuck up prat!"

Words escalated into a shoving match then they fell to the floor in a flail of fists and kicking. Remus and Kale looked at each other and then pulled their fighting roommates apart. Sirius and James stood feet apart, restrained by their roommates. James's lip was cut badly and he sneered through bloody teeth, "Why don't you go back home to your family of death eaters."

Though Kale did not know the significance of the insult, he could tell it carried serious weight. Sirius stiffened in Kale's arms.

"I don't need to take this from you."

He stormed off and slammed the door behind him. Remus, who was holding James, shoved him away from his chest.

"You need to go apologize."

James looked at the sandy haired boy like he'd just grown bat wings.

"You're off your rocker if you think I'm going after him!"

Kale walked over and stood next to Remus and leveled James with a flat stare. The messy hair boy exhaled noisily, "Fine. I'll apologize to the git." As he walked out the door he turned and glanced back, "You comin' or what?"

By the time the Gryffindors had descended the stairs Sirius was gone and the common room was empty.

"Must be past curfew," Remus mentioned. None of the three seemed daunted by the notion as they exited the portrait.

Sirius Black wished he hadn't wandered so far. He was now lost on some unknown corridor in Merlin-knows-what-part of the castle. He slumped against wall and ran his fingers across the smooth grooves of the cold stone floor.

"Look what we have here, boys. A lost _Gryffindor_," a voice said in condescending mock baby voice. Sirius stood up quickly and raised his wand pointing it at the newcomers. He wished now more than ever that he knew at least one spell to defend himself. It was however, the first day of his first year. There was four Slytherin first years in front of him; he remembered them from the sorting and new most of their families: Tobias Avery, Neyll Mulciber, Gregory Wilkes, and Severus Snape. The last looked uncomfortable with his present situation.

"We thought we could count on you being a Slytherin, Black," Avery taunted. Sirius felt on the verge of tears.

"No words from the big tough Gryffindor?" The Slytherins were circling him now. Their wands were out though Sirius was confident they knew about as many spells as him.

"Ya, I know a few words. Sod off!" He punctuated his words by spitting in Avery's face.

"You'll regret that, Black."

"I don't think he will."

Sirius and the four Slytherins turned to see where the words had come from. Sirius's eyebrows shot up when he saw they had come from the same boy who had caused him to leave in the first place, and behind him were his other two bunkmates. They looked furious.

"Put your wands away. Merlin knows you'll probably just hurt yourself, Mulciber."

The big Slytherin boy flushed, but put away his wand and cracked his knuckles. James leveled his eyes on Snape.

"Oh its you, the slimy one from the train. What was it again? Snivellus?" The boy in question paled and glared at James, but said nothing. Sirius let out a bark like laugh at the nickname.

"Shut your mouth, Black," spat Wilkes, and grabbed Sirius's collar.

"Get your hands off him," spoke Remus as he made his towards the crowd and stood next to James.

"Ya? Whose going to stop me?" Wilkes raised his hand higher and started gripped Sirius's throat.

"Me."

Kale Bastion didn't particularly like confrontation, he was small for his age and his narcolepsy was a liability, where he grew up those circumstances were a death sentence. It's probably why he chose to sneak beneath tables and steal his whole life. Most children in the slums were part of flash mobs, large groups of young children who would converge on lone people. But Kale also wanted to make friends, and he thought this was a good place to start. He hadn't had friend his whole life, and he just made the decision that he wanted these three boys, despite their differences, to be his friends.

"What are you going to about it," hissed Avery, he was about the same height as Kale and met him at eye level. He was right in Kale's face. Kale could feel his breath and the smell of pumpkin juice as he asked the question. And a good question it was.

Kale wasn't sure how problems were settled at Hogwarts, he'd only been there a few hours. He was going to use his hand magic, and banish the boy across the hallway, but it didn't seem that anyone else had their wand out. So he decided to solve the problems using what eleven years of living on the streets of Brixton had taught him.

He snapped his head forward faster than the other boy could expect. He could feel the cracking of nose cartridge and splatter blood on his forehead. He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain. Soon after, a clumsy fist clipped him in the ear solidly enough to knock him to the ground. His vision was swimming and he could only vaguely make out the noise of people scuffling and fists being thrown. Then he saw darkness.

Professor McGonagall had only agreed to be head of Gryffindor house because Albus had asked her and because of her enormous respect for what the headmaster had achieved. But at this moment she wished she would have thrown the request back in his face. The semester hadn't even technically started and she was already pacing her office, nervously straightening and re-straightening the items on her desk, and doling out punishments to first years. She stopped and analyzed the troublemakers, her mouth fixed in a tight line of disapproval.

There was Remus Lupin. He had short sandy blonde hair and large, blue eyes. He looked so much like any normal eleven year-old boy right now that Minerva had almost forgotten his lycanthropy. What a debacle that had been, getting him approved to attend Hogwarts despite his… affliction. Dumbledore had certainly put his neck on the line, but then again, Minerva reminded herself, that is what made Albus great.

Second was James Potter. A typical only child, James probably got whatever he wanted growing up, made worse by having two old rich parents, so excited to finally have a child they spoiled him rotten. Minerva contemplated James and Sirius together. You could almost call them brothers their appearances were so similar. They shared a rich shade of black hair and pale skin, with high, fine cheekbones. James's differences were his glasses and where his hair would stick up at every angle, Sirius's short hair lay neatly on his head.

Sirius was an interesting case. She frowned to herself. She felt rather bad for the boy, he didn't seem as awful as some of the Blacks that she had met, and she could hardly blame the boy for being born a Black. He would no doubt receive a nasty howler from his mother tomorrow regarding the sorting.

Last was the enigmatic Kale Bastion. Slumped in his chair with his head lolled to the side, in his current state it was hard to imagine that this boy was as remarkable as Dumbledore insisted. She had met him, and she certainly agreed he was clever and had a sharp mind, but Albus had compared his potential to that of Tom Riddle's… That alone gave her chills.

When Kale woke up, he found himself in an office, an extremely neat one. Beside him were his three bunkmates, all bleeding and in bad shape, but smirking nonetheless. The Deputy Headmistress, and Head of Gryffindor house was glaring at the four of them. It looked as if she might explode.

Kale's first reaction was one he'd had many times before in his life.

"Did I fall asleep again?" he asked of nobody in particular.

"Mr. Bastion! How nice of you to join us. I was just telling your friends here that I would take away more points from Gryffindor, but it seems that you and your friends' actions has left our unfortunate house with no points already, and its only been," she glanced at a strange magical clock behind her desk, "six hours into the new semester. Congratulations, a school record."

Kale smiled at her in response, _She called them my friends_.

Probably because of his smile, she singled out Kale again with her glare, "I would have thought that knowing your… condition that you would not have acted so recklessly, it appears I was wrong."

Kale shrugged and responded in his most innocent voice, "I was just helping out a fellow Gryffindor, I was under the impression that that was something we Gryffindors do."

His roommates grinned and caught onto his ploy.

The Deputy Headmistress was not deterred, "That was no reason to act impulsively."

"I thought that impulsiveness is a trait of Gryffindors? One valued by Godric Gryffindor himself," quipped Remus.

"Well yes I suppose that's true-"

"We're we suppose to leave Sirius to get the pulp beat out of him… that doesn't seem very Gryffindor like," added James.

"Now you know that's not what I mean, and stop interrupting! Five points from Gryffindor!" Professor McGonagall was heaving and pulling on her hair, just imagining seven years with these four.

The room went silent until Sirius added, in his most angelic voice, "We're out of points, though I suppose you could give us ten for every Slytherin in the hospital wing."

"I'm being serious!" she thundered. The boys look taken aback, but only for a moment.

"He already is," quipped James, pointing at Sirius. This earned a laugh from all the boys and Kale was sure he saw McGonagall mouth twitch.

Professor McGonagall plopped into her seat behind her desk and buried her face in her hands.

"Out."

The four Gryffindors needed no more instruction from the slowly self-destructing professor and scurried out of the office back to their dormitory.

Kale laid in his soft, four-poster bed and talked for hours with the three bunkmates. They ran the fight repeatedly in their heads, laughed, and talked about nothing in particular. The tangents of their conversation lasted until sunrise, until Kale Bastion fell asleep with a singular thought in his head.

He was finally home.


	4. The Marauders

**a_writer_bro**

**I own nothing.**

**Thank you EraxNeverxEndsx for the first review! Hopefully more will follow. I'm getting anxious to lay down the ground work of Kale's first year at Hogwarts so I can move on to the 5****th**** year (that's when things really start to pick up), so bear with me! **

"This can't be a real class."

Kale shot his new friend Sirius an amused look. He had to agree, of course. Out of all the classes Kale had experienced today, his first day of classes, History of Magic was by far the most boring. Kale was still trying to fathom how a class taught by a ghost could be so utterly, almost painfully boring.

Kale looked around to see that as a whole, the room of first years all seemed to feel the same way. Sirius was still in a state of shocked denial that this was all there was to the class, James was on the verge of losing his hair from pulling on it because of sheer boredom, and Remus, who initially tried diligently to take notes, was now instead scribbling pictures of Professor Binns on his notes.

"I hear he's a ghost of the teacher he used to be," Kale said, hoping to get a rise from his roommates.

Remus graced him with a laugh but James and Sirius were too deep in a bored depression to even hear the joke. Fed up with the class and desperate for some sort of entertainment Kale impulsively transfigured his inkpot into a mouse using an improvised variation of a spell McGonagall had taught them that morning. That got his friends' attention. They watched him with a mixture of confusion, anticipation, and giddy nervousness as he folded a piece of paper into a plane.

"What are you doing-" Remus started.

"Just watch."

In truth, Kale was not sure what he was doing but just improvising as he went along to entertain his friends. He placed the mouse on the newly made paper airplane and then charmed the airplane to be sturdy enough to hold the mouse whilst staying afloat. Kale then gently pushed the plane into empty air and then guided its course with his wand using the Wingardium Leviosa spell he learned in the previous charms class. Soon the there was a tiny mouse apparently piloting a tiny aircraft in swift circles around the oblivious Professor Binns. This gesture earned a hearty laugh from James so loud it startled the tiny redheaded girl in front of him. She turned around and glared daggers at the four boys behind her.

"Would you _please_ keep it down, some of us care about our education."

Lily Evans was a tiny thing whose hair seemed likely to make up half of her weight. She had long, thick locks of deep auburn hair that contrasted interestingly with her vivid green eyes. James's reaction was as if he was being berated by a slug.

"Don't you have a sense of humor?" asked James, pointing to the mouse still piloting the paper airplane around Binns's head.

Lily's response was a huff of indignation as she turned around to continue to take notes.

"That's a mighty good piece of magic mate," whispered Sirius in a sincere voice to Kale. "How did you manage that bit of transfiguration?"

Kale's response was an uncomfortable shrug. He felt as if he'd been deflecting that question all day. Since his first class he'd noticed that the material just came easy to him. His mothers had told him that he had a quick, clever mind, but because he'd never been to school he was never able to gauge his abilities against his peers, until now. The result was that, to him, the lessons seemed to move at a glacial pace to accommodate his classmates. The upside, Kale decided, was that his new friends felt the same way, for the most part.

_Looks like I'll be teaching myself a lot_ mused Kale.

"What do you make of him?" asked Dumbledore. "Is he a good seed?"

The headmaster and deputy headmistress sat in the Albus's office surrounded by his numerous gizmos and magical devices, both silently sucking on lemon drops and considering the enigmatic question that was Kale Bastion.

Professor McGonagall mulled over the question and she pushed the lemon drop with her tongue, from side to side in her mouth.

"He's certainly gifted." And he was, there was no doubt about it. The boy, who was initially brimming with excitement at the beginning of her transfiguration class, completed his task of turning a match into a needle on the first attempt. Afterward, when he noticed that that spell would be the lesson for the remainder of the class, adopted a familiar look of boredom McGonagall often saw on the faces of children too advanced for the slow pace set by their peers.

Indeed, McGonagall thought, with a small, indulgent smile on her face, all four of the Gryffindor boys showed promise as students. Then again, Minerva's smile turned into grimace, after last night's debacle with the Slytherins…

"Minerva," Dumbledore's voice nudged her gently out of her musing.

"All four are gifted, and already thick as thieves." McGonagall paused thoughtfully, " The Black boy, Sirius, doesn't have an ounce of the malice his family does."

Dumbledore was happy with that news. He had admittedly been worried about Kale's interaction with a child whose family was so heavily involved with the increasingly troublesome Lord Voldemort.

McGonagall interrupted Albus's thoughts, "Is it necessary to watch him so carefully?"

Albus stood and walked toward a beautiful ornate oak cabinet. He opened the double doors to reveal a large stone pensieve and then proceeded to extract a silvery memory from his temple which he then deposited into the stone basin. Afterward he turned toward his deputy headmistress and regarded her with a serious expression uncommon for his usually genial face.

"There is a war coming. A war that is as of now evenly balanced. That boy has the potential for remarkable power; power that could tip the scale- one way or the other. I don't know when the war will come, but when it does, we must ensure he is on our side."

McGonagall was shocked, "But he's just a child!"

Dumbledore nodded, "And we will let him have his childhood- for now. But a time will come when he has to pick a side."

Dumbledore sat down his plush office chair and formed a steeple with his long fingers before his face.

"I just hope it's ours."

Kale's week passed uneventfully, or as uneventfully as possible in a magic school, until Friday when Kale and his roommates sat down in the great hall for lunch before their last class before the weekend. A class James hadn't been able to stop talking about since he'd arrived at Hogwarts.

"I can't believe they won't let first years on the team! I mean- why not? The whole rule is ridiculous!" James's rant was met with a now familiar good-natured groan from his friends. Kale guessed he'd heard this tirade from James maybe twenty times already this week, but decided to indulge his friend anyway.

"So-" Kale began casually, while helping himself to more chicken, "James, are you any good at flying anyway?" Kale had timed his question precisely for when James next drank from his glass of pumpkin juice. The result was when he heard Kale's question he sprayed his entire mouthful of pumpkin juice directly on the unsuspecting Lily Evans to his right. Kale suspected that trajectory of James's juice spray may have been less than random, even predetermined.

"Eeeek!" she let out a shrill scream of surprise from the unwarranted pumpkin bath. James ignored her easily, instead favoring Kale with his best mask of mock-horror.

"Any good?Am I any good? My father once"- Remus and Sirius rolled their eyes and Kale had to refrain from laughing, "My father once called me a generational phenomena. The Wimbourne Wasps have been scouting me since I was five. My first word was quaffle." By then anyone at the Gryffindor table who was listening was laughing, even Lily Evans. James handled it like a natural; Kale noticed he thrived on attention.

After lunch, the foursome hurried down to the Quidditch pitch. The class split in two rows, made up of Gryffindor and Slytherin first years. The flight coach was a monstrous woman with a gentle face named Madam Leyder. Kale heard that before teaching she had played Quidditch for the Holyhead Harpies. It was apparently a big deal. Judging from what Kale garnered about Quidditch positions, he had to guess she was played beater. Once she was sure her safety rules had reached the ears of each distracted student, she began handing out old school brooms to everyone. James had some choice words to say about the quality of his broom, but changed his tune when she threatened to take it back. Kale was last in line and held out his arms expectantly when she finally reached him.

"I'm sorry Kale." She looked down sympathetically at the young boy. Kale screwed up his eyes in confusion.

"Dumbledore said you're exempt from this lesson, because of your narc… Narco-something." She furrowed her brow trying to come up with the second half of the word.

"Narcolepsy," the word came out of Kale like an old gust of wind, a mean familiar friend.

"Right," Madam Leyder finished lamely. By now Kale and the flying instructor had caught the attention of the class.

"Oi! What's the hold up?"

"That one, the small one, he can't fly."

"You reckon he's scared?"

Kale did not want to raise his eyes, because he feared if he tilted his head back the tears that were brimming around his eyes would threaten to spill down his cheeks. But he didn't need to look up to recognize the voices as some of the Slytherin students he shared potions with.

"Maybe he's a squib."

The last comment was met with hoots and jeers from the Slytherins, and though Kale didn't know what the word meant he took it as his cue to run for the castle before anyone saw him cry, or worse, fall asleep. The last thing he heard was a short scuffle and Madam Leyder shouting before he ran into the tunnel leaving the Quidditch pitch.

Minutes later a gloomy Kale Bastion was shuffling along a random corridor of the castle, occasionally striking out at the stone walls with his foot, affronting undeserving paintings, and just generally feeling sorry for his self. It's not even that he wanted to fly, he told himself angrily. It was that he was so close to fitting in. To feeling normal. _Normal_. Kale scoffed at the notion.

He was intelligent enough to realize he was something of an anomaly, even in the wizarding world. What kid has fourteen mothers and no father? Oh and there is a catch, the mothers are really just whores. Kale lashed out at a wall with his foot, hitting the stones ineffectually and drawing his foot back in pain.

_Don't forget your narcolepsy, Kale_ he mocked himself in the voice of one of his many mothers. How could he? It was the constant reminder of the things he couldn't do. Sure, he had tried many different medicines that he could get his hands on, but nothing worked. Once, his mothers had saved up enough money to see a specialist (a feat that had taken them months of saving). But even the doctor was at a loss as to why Kale's narcolepsy acted as it did. Even Professor Slughorn, upon hearing of his disease, took an interest and brewed something he assured Kale would work. Kale excitedly drank down the potion, but when Slughorn produced a boggart to test him Kale still fell asleep. The worst part wasn't even the failure of the experiment but Slughorn's face when he woke up Kale. He had seen Kale's boggart, it had taken the shape of his friends, shouting things like, "Street wretch!" and "Son of a whore!" and "Thief!" Safe to say, after that debacle Slughorn had shown much less interest in acquiring Kale for his Slug Club; choosing instead to fawn over his Slytherin students and Lily Evans, who was popular with all the teachers.

"Hey Kale, wait up!"

Kale spun around on a dime, eyes wide. "What are you guys doing here? Shouldn't you be outside?" He asked his three friends as they ran down the corridor to meet him.

"We… got… kicked… out… after…" Sirius was struggling to regain his breath. They must have been chasing down Kale for a while. "." He said in a rush between breaths.

Kale didn't know what to say. He was touched. "You guys didn't have to do that," he admonished them.

They all just shrugged. It was an easy decision for them. Even James, who was looking forward to showing off his flying skill, didn't seem the slightest bit put out. An awkward silence descended then, as there was nothing left to say except for the obvious question that had gone to long unanswered.

Surprisingly, it was Remus who poached the question.

"Kale," he began gently, "Tell us, what was that all about why couldn't you fly?" Remus reached out and gently touched Kale on the shoulder. Kale took a deep breath, realizing he couldn't dodge the question any longer.

"You guys promise you won't laugh?" The three nodded their heads, fixing their faces into solemn masks.

"I have this thing, well a disease actually- a muggle disease… though I suppose if I have it wizards must get it to-" he paused when he saw his friends growing impatient with his stalling.

"It's called Narcolepsy. Basically I fall asleep when I get stressed or scared or whatever…" He trailed off.

James let out a loud snort, "Is that it? That's the big deal, huh?"

Sirius nodded his agreement with James's sentiment, "It's going to take a lot more than that to scare us off." Kale noticed at the moment the uncomfortable change in Remus's demeanor at Sirius's words.

Kale let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He realized now how important his friends were to him. How much they mattered.

"I just hope the rest of the school shares your opinion," he said.

James ran his hand through his hair thoughtfully, "You know, I bet everyone would forget about what happened today if something else, something funny, happened tomorrow."

Sirius seemed to follow his train of thought, and his smile grew with each word, "Like a prank?"

"Like a prank." James nodded.

"And if this prank just happened to be directed to the Slytherins who made fun of Kale…" Remus led on, with a rare gleam in his eye.

Kale was grinning from ear to ear. He liked where this was going.

"Just promise you won't fall asleep on us, alright mate?" James joked while nudging Kale playfully in the ribs.

Kale shot his arms in the air, pretending to be hurt by James's words. "You wound me, brother!"

During Kale's theatrics, his right hand accidentally grazed the portrait of a bowl of fruit behind them, or to be specific, grazed the pear in the bowl of painted fruit behind them.

The effect of was an immediate rumbling as the portrait moved to reveal a large entrance to a room, probably a kitchen, full of short, bustling creatures with large floppy ears and tennis ball sized eyes. One rushed up to Kale and politely asked, "How can I help the young master?"

Kale smiled to himself and said aloud to his friends, "I think I just found our prank."

"Are you sure they won't know it was us?" asked Remus nervously the next morning at breakfast. They had all woken up early in order to assure a prime seat for the festivities they had planned during breakfast. Going as far as all sitting on the same side, backs to the wall, for a perfect view at the Slytherin table.

"How could they possibly prove it was us?" asked Sirius. He was lounging cockily, arms folded with both feet on the table and his back against the wall.

"Hmm, I don't know, maybe ask the house elves who we had put that special ingredient that Slytherins 'really love'?" Remus pointed out.

"I still can't believe they fell for that," interjected Kale.

"I hadn't thought of that," admitted Sirius, returning to Remus's concern.

The Great Hall had been gradually filling with students for the past thirty minutes, and the Slytherins had yet to show up. Just as Kale was getting worried that they may not come to breakfast, Lily came through the double doors talking to Snape (or Snivellus, as James and Sirius had affectionately named him). Walking a few yards behind Snape was Mulciber, Avery, and Wilkes, all glaring at Lily's back. Clearly, they did not approve of Snape's odd friendship with Lily, Kale noted.

Lily separated from Snape and made her way to the Gryffindor table, all the while waving to Kale, James, Sirius, and Remus, mistaking their focus in her direction for friendly attention.

"Hey guys," she greeted cheerily while taking a seat across from James, "have you started that Transfiguration essay, so far it's-"

"Shhhh!" James cut across her amiable chitchat rudely, and then returned his focus to the Slytherin table.

Lily looked as if someone had just insulted her mother, "_Excuse me_ for being polite, I was just-"

"SHHHH!" This time the noise came from all four Gryffindor boys, who after silencing Lily, returned their undivided attention to the Slytherin table.

Lily leaned back on her bench, clearly affronted by their behavior. She looked as if she were about to talk again so Kale saved her the trouble by pointing across the Great Hall where the Slytherins were about to start eating. Her curiosity trumped her anger and she silently watched, for the moment. The food arrived in front of the Slytherin first years, eggs and ham. They never saw it coming. The effect was not immediate. A few bites in and the first bomb went off, then another, and another. Tiny puffs of smoke billowing out of the Avery's mouth as he gagged and wretched, the food turned into whatever particularly foul smelling stink bomb James had chosen. Soon every Slytherin first year was gagging or pouring pumpkin juice down their throats to negate the foul odor.

Kale and his friends were rolling with laughter, along with every other student from the other, non-Slytherin houses. Even some of the more humorous teachers spared a smile. Lily gave them a half-horrified, half-amused look. She was perhaps the only one privy to them being the culprits. Kale took a moment to dry his eyes and truly bask in the harmony he had found here at Hogwarts, his home, with his friends, his family.

"We should have a nickname, you know, for the group as a whole," proposed Kale. The others nodded their heads in agreement.

"How about… The Bandits!" Sirius pounded his fist into his palm for emphasis. Lily rolled her eyes and Remus shot him a withering look, "That's an awful name."

James mulled over the name, moving his tongue in his mouth as if he could taste it.

"I like where your head is at Sirius, that's the right direction," his face lit up and he paused dramatically, "How about, The Raiders!" He looked around eagerly for his friends' approval, his glasses slipping down his nose.

Remus and Kale mocked throwing up in their hands.

"Fine, you come up with one if you're so good at naming," demanded James.

"The Outlaws, The Pirates, The Pillagers, The Plunderers," Remus listed off while counting on his fingers.

"Bad, bad, bad, bad," mimicked Sirius while counting on his fingers.

"I feel like we're just naming definitions and synonyms of the word we're looking for," said Kale. The four Gryffindors descended into thoughtful silence. Lily was looking at them as if they were crazy.

"You're thinking of the word Marauder," cried an exasperated Lily.

James stood up and snapped his fingers, "That's it! The Marauders, we're The Marauders!"

"Brilliant!" Kale clapped his friend on the shoulder.

"Excellent James, good going."

"How did you come up with that?" asked Sirius appraisingly.

"Just a wave of genius I guess," shrugged James with tremendous false modesty.

Lily was staring at the Marauders incredulously. She gaped and stuttered trying to get the words out, but settled for simply screaming and pulling on her hair before leaving in a huff.

"What's got her knickers in a bunch?" asked James. His friends just shrugged, unconcerned.

_Months later, December 10__th__, a week before Christmas break. _

Late into a frigid December night, Dumbledore was pacing back and forth in front of his office fireplace; the fire's glow tinting his silver crescent moon robes a warm shade of bronze. He was thinking, and as was customary when he would think, he would eat candy, after muggle candy. There was a small pyramid of multicolored wrappers on his desk; a testimony to how long he'd been pondering this specific problem.

The problem came to his office earlier that day in the form of a human question mark, as Dumbledore had come to think of him. But to his friends and classmates, he was Kale Bastion.

_Kale…_

The boy was truly remarkable. He had a brilliant mind that shone like a beacon in all his classes. Judging by the teachers' complaints about his witty retorts, he had a tongue like a knife too, and wasn't afraid to treat people like whetstones. Dumbledore smiled despite himself. He saw a lot he liked in the boy: he was fiercely loyal to his friends (or marauders as they called themselves, Dumbledore chuckled at this), had a very straightforward manner, and an easy laugh. But there was a lot in Kale that worried him too. He was very much aware of the superiority of his power compared to his peers, making him quick to fight and regard his enemies similar to how a human might a mosquito. Dumbledore believed this also stemmed from his life growing up in the slums; perhaps a sort of fight-or-flight instinct.

Dumbledore crunched hard on the tiny, watermelon sweet in his mouth, turning it to powder. He reached in his pocket for another, mean while stealing a glance at the pensieve he had been revisiting repeatedly this night. He made to go use it again but decided against it; he had watched the memory enough times to realize that there was no hidden agenda, no message to find. The boy was being honest with him.

Kale had approached him, asking of Dumbledore to teach him occlumency. To put it lightly, Dumbledore had not seen the request coming. Kale argued his point rather reasonably, saying he had done research on occlumency and said that because the nature of occlumency was to clear the mind by controlling one's emotions he believed that occlumency was perhaps his last hope at squashing his narcolepsy. The fire in his eyes when he told Dumbledore this suggested that he would learn it, with or without the headmaster's help.

Albus was shocked that he didn't think of it himself. Occlumency and narcolepsy seemed a perfect marriage; one precludes the other. Then again, he probably didn't think of it because who in their right mind would assume a child of eleven, (_or was he twelve now, yes twelve_), would be up for learning one of the most challenging and demanding schools of magic? The problem was if Kale mastered occlumency, he would be able to shield his mind from anyone, even a master legilimens like Dumbledore if the Kale's mind was strong enough. Essentially, the question came down to would he put his faith in the child or not. Kale would become a closed book, something Albus did not fancy. Not that he didn't trust the young Gryffindor, he seemed innocent enough, but so had young Bellatrix when she first came to Hogwarts. And Albus knew how that story ended. Dumbledore had a choice: help Kale and forever close off his mind, or deny him but risk his distrust. Then there was the matter of Kale's planned use of Occlumency. He was still a child; would he constantly abuse it in order to avoid interaction with more stressful emotions? What effect would that have? Dumbledore could not think of any studies involving the long-term effects of misusing Occlumency.

Albus let out a long, gusty sigh. It was best to worry about such a thing. He had enough immediate problems as it was. That was future Albus's problem. His pressing dilemma was whether to help Kale. He did not fancy the positions his power sometimes allowed him. Especially if it required the manipulation of the students he swore to protect.

Dumbledore crunched determinedly down on other sweet, followed by reaching in his pocket for a replacement. No, no- he would help Kale, he decided. He was a headmaster first, and it was his duty to help his students. Besides, the boy was determined to learn, with or without him; better to earn his trust by helping him than lose his trust and risk him teaching himself anyway. He would send a note to Kale in the morning asking him to stay at Hogwarts this winter.

_The lessons will begin on the first day of Christmas break_. Albus chomped down on another candy.

**Wooooooooooooh, that chapter was doozy! Sorry for skipping few months, but at the pace I'm writing, we'll be stuck in first year forever! Better to stick to the important stuff, shade the characters a bit, and then really start digging into the story during 5****th**** year. Please review and let me know what you think. Do you like it, do you hate it? I promise that if I get 5 reviews, just a measly 5 reviews, I'll finish the next chapter by tomorrow night! Next chapter things really shake up a bit, and there is a pretty killer magic scene where we see what Kale is truly capable of. But no more spoilers! Review and you'll get to see soon enough!**


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